Still Waters Run Deep
by caffeinenut
Summary: What would have happened if Greg had visited Sara before Grissom after she was suspended in Nesting Dolls? How would their lives have been different from that point onward?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone. I do this for my enjoyment only.

Author's Note: My first three stories, Snap, Loss of Innocence, and Shattered Glass, were Grissom/Sara, and this one has nothing to do with those three. This one will be Greg/Sara.

Summary: What would have happened if Greg had visited Sara before Grissom after she was suspended in Nesting Dolls? How would their lives have been different from that point onward?

Still Waters Run Deep

Chapter 1

Sara Sidle paused in her typing when she heard the soft knocking on her apartment door. Sighing heavily, she left the computer and slowly made her way to the door, her semi-warm beer hanging from one hand. She really wasn't in the mood to be sociable, least of all to anyone who was associated with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. No doubt, the person on the other side of her apartment door was one of those people, the main forerunner being her supervisor, Gil Grissom. Another possibility was Catherine Willows, here to gloat. Or, worst of all, Conrad Ecklie personally hand delivering her pink slip.

So, in fact, Sara Sidle was very surprised to find Greg Sanders, blonde, spiked hair and all, on the other side of her door. "Greg, what are you doing here?" she asked, not unkindly, but not exactly in a warm and welcoming manner, either.

"Can I come in?" he replied, trying to gently move her out of the doorway and make his way into her inner sanctum.

She was about to tell him no, to push him away from the door so she could slam it shut and lock it, when she made the mistake of looking into his eyes. His deep, soulful brown eyes. Not his usual bright, sparkling with mischief brown eyes. One look into those eyes and Sara saw how profoundly worried about her he was. And she couldn't say no. Not that she ever really could when it came to Greg, anyway.

"Yeah, okay," she said softly, moving to the side to allow him to enter. Once he was in her apartment, she closed the door and walked past him to the kitchen. "Want something to drink?" she asked politely.

"Got any more of those?" he asked, indicating the Sam Adams in her hand.

Nodding, Sara opened the refrigerator and bent down to the bottom shelf. She reached in and removed one of the remaining bottles. Standing up, she shut the fridge rather more forcefully than she had intended, causing a few take-out menus to fall to the floor. Ignoring them, she handed the extra beer to Greg across the bar counter, and then took another long swallow of hers.

"Why are you here, Greg?" Sara asked suddenly, deciding she should just get this over with.

"I, uh, I heard about your, uh, your…blowup at Catherine and at, ah, at Ecklie," Greg stammered, a little take aback at Sara's directness. Truth be told, he had been pretty sure that he'd have had to force this issue, and was very surprised that Sara had initiated the conversation.

"Yeah, that," Sara said, laughing mirthlessly. "It was very unprofessional, and will probably lead to a pink slip, so don't do it." She turned away from him then, placing her empty beer bottle in the sink, and grabbing another from the fridge. "Want another? Or maybe some food, perhaps?"

"Why'd you do it?" Greg asked quickly, trying to keep her from retreating.

"I have some veggie stir-fry I could whip up…some tofu casserole…"

"Sara," Greg pleaded nervously, running a hand through his hair, making it stand more on end, if that was possible. "Talk to me. I'm a good listener, you know."

"What's there to say, Greg?" Sara asked heatedly, turning back to face him, hands on hips, a thunderous look on her face. "I yelled at Catherine and Ecklie over something very stupid and now I'll probably be fired. Not much to say about that."

"Why'd you yell at them?" When Sara just shrugged at him in response, Greg felt himself becoming angry, arms waving around as he loudly exclaimed, "Oh, come on! There has to be a reason! You get this way every time there's a domestic violence or a rape case, especially if they lead to a death!" He watched as Sara's face went from angry to remorseful in a matter of seconds, then on to scared. And Greg knew that he was on to something, that there was something Sara was keeping hidden. A real reason as to why those types of cases really affected her. Greg came around the counter then and took her hands in his. "Look," he continued in a soft, comforting tone, "I'm your friend; at least I thought I was. And friends talk to each other and go to each other for help. Let me help you."

"You are my friend, my best friend, but I don't know if I can talk about it," she whispered back, almost pleading for him to make her. At least, that was Greg's hopeful interpretation.

"C'mon. Let's go sit down and you can start. Take as long as you need. I'm not going anywhere. There's no place else I'd rather be right now. Okay?" Taking her nod as agreement, Greg, still holding Sara's hands, led her over to her small couch and made her sit down, putting himself right next to her. Their new positions on the couch forced Greg to drop one of her hands, but Sara laced her fingers with his with her other, squeezing tight, trying to reassure herself that he wasn't going anywhere. They sat like that for a few minutes, holding hands tightly, Sara staring at her coffee table, Greg staring at Sara, until Sara began to speak, her voice laced with sadness and apprehension.

"I lived through a lot of domestic violence as a kid," she began quietly. "My father…he…my mother, brother, and I were always at the hospital for something or other. Always saying we fell down the stairs…off our bikes…lots of cuts, bruises. Broken bones. As far back as I can remember. There wasn't a time where there wasn't…All the yelling, the fighting, the fists…I thought it was normal." Sara paused there to use her free hand to wipe some tears from her face before she could continue. "One night, it was really bad. My brother had already taken off. I haven't heard from him since. But that night…it…I…She killed him Greg. With the carving knife, and I…" At that statement, Sara broke down sobbing, and Greg pulled her tightly against him, rocking her back and forth. It surprised him, but only for a moment, that he was crying, too, crying for his friend and all the horrors she'd lived through as a kid. He felt Sara burrowing her head against his chest, hands fisting his Marilyn Manson t-shirt, and Greg did all that he could to comfort her, though he realized that she may be beyond that now.

"I'm so sorry, Sara, that you had to go through that," he whispered into her ear. "I'm here right now, just let it all out. I won't let you fall." After a long time, Sara's sobs quieted down, and she was left leaning against Greg, occasional shudders passing over her body, and sniffs the only sound she made. "What happened to you after that night?" Greg questioned softly, knowing there was more to this ordeal.

"I was only twelve. Foster care," Sara whispered, sniffing again.

"Were you…okay in foster care?" Greg asked cautiously, afraid of the stories and secrets she may be harboring about being a ward of the state.

"Some homes were better than others," Sara told him. "But I don't have any of the horror stories that other kids do. All my foster parents were decent. There wasn't any abuse or neglect."

"Did, um, did you have to testify? Against your mother?" Greg asked quickly, hoping he wasn't opening up another can of worms.

He felt Sara shake her head against his chest as she answered. "No. The psychologist I was forced to see said that it would be too much on top of the trauma I'd already sustained. They wanted to hear my story, but I could do it through a deposition, with the psychologist there to prevent any…damage…that could come about. But I never had to say anything. My mother told them everything, so they didn't need my account."

Greg sighed deeply. "Oh, Sara, I wish there was something I could say…that I could tell you I understand…"

"It's okay, Greg," Sara cut him off. "It means a lot that you care so much to make me talk. That you're here right now. You don't have to say anything. Just don't…"

"Don't what?" Greg asked when Sara paused again.

"Don't walk out that door yet, okay?" she said in a small voice, gripping him a little tighter.

"I'm not going anywhere," Greg assured her with finality.

"Okay," Sara said. After a moment, she asked fearfully, "Do you think murder is genetic?"

"No," he replied without hesitation. "And you should believe me. I was a DNA tech. I know all about genes."

"I sometimes wonder if…"

"You'll be just like them?" he completed her question. When he felt her nod against him, he continued softly, "But you won't be. Sure, genetically, you're a combination of your parents, so you might have his eyes and her nose and such, but really, your personalities will be different. They're them and you're you. Your external stimuli, which are just as important in determining characteristics as your internal stimuli, are drastically different than theirs. Different stimuli means different trait expression."

"Okay," Sara said again, this time yawning. "Thanks for not thinking I'm crazy."

"You're not crazy," he assured her.

Greg could tell that Sara was fighting sleep, could feel her forcing her eyes open as she leaned against him. After such an emotional upheaval, Greg knew she must be exhausted. He was exhausted after just listening. Hoping he wasn't overstepping the bounds and almost fearful that she was about to throw him out for what he was doing, Greg leaned back on the couch, adjusting his position so that he was lying down, taking Sara with him. He made sure she was secure, lying half on him, half between him and the back of her couch, as he wrapped one arm around her head, threading his fingers through her dark hair to hold the back of it to his chest. He placed his other arm around her back, gently rubbing soothing circles across it. When Sara made no move to get away, but rather snuggled in closer, Greg knew that Sara had decided to accept what security he could give her. It didn't take long for both of them to fall asleep.

Greg awoke to the sound of a knock on the door. At first he was confused. Where the hell was he? He lifted his head up off the couch and looked around, taking in his surroundings. This was not his apartment; the walls were a deep purple, the furniture earth tones and actually matching, the couch wasn't nearly as comfortable, and he most certainly didn't have a brunette at home to snuggle with. A brunette whom he recognized right away. Sara. Then it all came back to him, the conversation he'd had with his friend earlier. He was at Sara's apartment, and she had shared some deep, dark secrets about her past with him. And then they had fallen asleep on the couch.

The knocking increased in volume and became more insistent. Not wanting to have it wake up Sara, he carefully extracted himself from her, gently fixing her on the couch, and then made his way quietly to the door, hoping it would open without a loud squeak. And hoping he could convince whomever it was that this was a bad time and to come back later, thank you very much.

Opening the door, Greg saw the last person he'd expected to see. Grissom. And, by the look on Grissom's face, he was the last person the entomologist had expected.

"Greg? I came to see Sara…" Grissom began, confused, until Greg cut him off, shushing him.

"Shhh. She's sleeping and I don't want to wake her up," Greg whispered to the older man, ushering him in and quietly closing the door behind him. "We fell asleep about…" Greg paused to glance at his watch, then continued, "five hours ago, and she's still out like a light. What are you doing here, Grissom?"

"I came to talk to Sara. What are you doing here?" Grissom whispered back, agreeing with Greg for the moment that Sara should stay asleep.

"I, uh, heard about her little tiff with Catherine and Ecklie, and came to, ah, make sure she was okay," Greg replied nervously, biting his bottom lip. Being around Grissom made him nervous. Grissom made him nervous, mostly because all Greg wanted to do was impress the man, and in trying to do so, he inevitably, most times, screwed up. However, in this case, he was more nervous that Grissom would ask him if Sara'd said anything, given him any reason as to why she'd flipped out, to which Greg had no idea how to answer. On the one hand, he thought Grissom should know about Sara's past, if only to help him understand where she was coming from and to possibly help save her job. On the other hand, Greg felt that if he told Grissom what Sara had revealed to him, he'd be betraying her trust, and that was just something he couldn't do. She had told him something deep, something private, that she obviously didn't want anyone to know, and Greg didn't want to let her down and destroy any bond they may have formed earlier.

"Did she talk to you about why it happened?" Grissom asked Greg.

And there it was. The dreaded question. Greg shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking away from his boss and over at the sleeping woman on the couch. She'd curled up into the fetal position, and looked, to Greg, to be shivering. She was cold without him there. He left Grissom standing by the door to go over to Sara and remove the blanket from the back of the couch and arrange it over her, tucking it in around her back and up under her chin. He remained crouched down by her face for a moment, brushing a strand of her dark hair off her cheek and tenderly tucking it behind her ear. He took another moment just to stare at her, giving him time to think about what to tell Grissom. Finally, he quietly made his way back to the older man, motioning him to follow into the bathroom. Once both men were in the small room, Greg turned on the light and closed the door, so that the sound of their voices wouldn't wake his friend up.

"She, ah, she talked to me about it, yeah," he started nervously, stumbling over his words.

"Did she give some kind of explanation? I need one so that I can try to fix this with Ecklie. He wants me to fire her, you know," Grissom was direct.

"Yeah, she kinda figured that," Greg said slowly. "See, the way it is, Gris…she told me some stuff, that I think you should probably know, but I can't tell you. I can't betray her like that. It explains a lot…" Greg scrubbed his face with his hands, not sure where to go with this conversation. "I think it'll help her to talk about it with someone…"

"Greg," Grissom said warningly. "I'm her supervisor. If there's something going on that affects the way she performs her job, friendship aside, I need to know."

"I can't tell you, Grissom," Greg said pleadingly. "Please don't ask me to." He turned away from Grissom and ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know what to do here."

"Greg, I can't protect her if I don't know what's going on," Grissom pointed out softly, recognizing how difficult this was for the younger man. He knew Greg cared for Sara, but he had had no idea how deep the man's feelings ran. It appeared as if Greg felt his friendship with Sara was the most important thing to him, even more important that either of their jobs.

"Can I just say that Sara has first hand experience with long term domestic violence and leave it at that?" Greg questioned sadly, still facing away from Grissom. When he heard Grissom grunt behind him, Greg turned around slowly at met the other man's eyes. "Did you know?"

Grissom shook his head quickly. "No. But I suspected, with the reactions she exhibited during other cases." Grissom rubbed his chin thoughtfully, trying to decide how best to deal with Sara and the position she'd placed him in with Catherine and Ecklie. "Greg, when she wakes up, tell her that I came by and that I'm going to go to bat for her with Ecklie. I'll protect her, but only as long as she seeks counseling with her PEAP counselor again."

"Deal. Don't worry; she'll go, even if I have to drive her there myself and wait outside for her."

"You're a good friend to her, Greg. Better than I've been able to be." Grissom commented in a rare moment of openness.

"It's not easy, but it's well worth it," Greg replied with a smile.

Grissom squeezed Greg's shoulder briefly in support, and then silently left the bathroom, pausing for a moment to look at Sara, still fast asleep on the couch. He turned back to look at Greg, standing in the bathroom doorway. He nodded to the younger man, then quietly left Sara's apartment, making sure the door made no noise as he closed it behind him. As he walked down the hallway to the stairs, Grissom sighed, feeling the chance he may have once had with Sara leave with his breath. He knew that now, no matter what he felt for her, no matter what he decided he wanted to do about "this" between them, Greg would be standing in his way, protecting her, fighting for her. A few years ago he knew that Sara would have chosen him, hands down, but now? He'd carefully observed his two co-workers over the past six months as he'd placed Greg's training in Sara's hands, and had watched as their relationship and their interactions had shifted. Now, he wasn't so sure he was the favorite, wasn't so sure Sara would be so quick to pick him. Grieving briefly for chances lost, Grissom did take comfort in the knowledge that if Sara did indeed pick Greg, that Greg would most definitely treat her right and not hurt her over and over, as he had done.

Catherine Willows and Conrad Ecklie sat in Ecklie's office under the guise of going over a report, when in fact, they were discussing the situation with Sara and how they believed it should be taken care of. Once, Catherine might have brought her recommendations to Grissom himself, but those times were long gone. She had first hand knowledge of how much the enigmatic entomologist cared for the younger woman, and knew that no matter what she told him, he would end up protecting the younger woman, even if it hurt the lab or his career. Grissom couldn't risk being with Sara, but he also couldn't let her go.

Grissom walked into the office and without preamble said, "You wanted to talk to me about Sara?"

"Yes, Gil, we did. Why don't you sit down," Ecklie offered a chair.

"No thanks. I'd rather stand. This won't take long," Grissom said stiffly. "I'm not going to fire her."

"Well, then, what are you going to do?" Ecklie asked.

"I've already taken care of it," Grissom answered quickly. "Now, if there's nothing else…"

"How did you 'take care of it'" Catherine asked, speaking up for the first time, peering at Grissom over the rim of her black reading glasses.

"That's none of your business," Grissom shot back, almost angrily. "I'm her supervisor. I've handled it. She'll take her suspension and be back in a week."

"Listen, Gil," Ecklie said sharply. "I know how much you've protected and covered for her in the past. I've seen her file, the complaints against her, mainly for her attitude problem. She shows a blatant disregard for authority, especially mine, and now Catherine's. She's a loose cannon and a potential liability to this lab."

"No, you listen, Conrad," Grissom answered back forcefully. "She's a great criminalist, and since you've broken up my team, I need her more than ever. Her behavior is my fault. I wasn't paying enough attention, wasn't an attentive supervisor and therefore failed to recognize the situation for what it was until it was too late. That's now going to change, and there shouldn't be any more problems."

"Fine," Ecklie said with finality. "If that's the way you want it, she's all yours. I take no more responsibility for Sidle whatsoever." With that statement, Ecklie stood up and left his office, leaving a very irate Catherine to stare down a stoic Grissom.

"Gil," Catherine began, reigning in her anger, "I know you have feelings for Sara…"

"Which has nothing to do with my decision," Grissom interrupted. "I did for Sara what I've done for everyone else who was on graveyard with me in the past; I jumped in front of a moving bus to protect you and your careers. What makes Sara so different from you that she doesn't deserve the same type of fight from me?"

Seeing Grissom's point, Catherine conceded the argument and nodded her head. "Nothing. She deserves just as much from you as the rest of us. But, Gil, be careful here. Sara has a problem and it's only gotten worse the longer I've known her."

After a few tense, silent moments, Grissom said, "You know, I once told Sara, after she recommended to me that I fire Warrick over his alleged gambling, that she didn't see the whole picture, but that I did. I'm now saying the same thing to you. You don't have all the facts in this case, Catherine. I'm well aware of what's going on with Sara, and as I said earlier, it's being taken care of." He turned and began to leave the office, then paused at the doorway and said over his shoulder, "For now, I think it best if you and Sara don't work together. If you need help, I'll help, or give you Sofia, but Sara and Greg are off limits to you."

"What's wrong with Greg?" Catherine asked, knitting her eyebrows in bewilderment.

"I'm afraid that if I let Greg work with you right now, I'll have two suspended CSIs on my shift." Leaving those words hanging in the air, Grissom left Catherine alone to ponder his last words.

As soon as Grissom had left, Greg quietly crept back over to the couch and knelt down by Sara's head, a frown on his face. He reached out with one hand to gently caress her cheek, but pulled back at the last second; afraid any touch would wake her. He stared at her, content enough to just be near her. His friend was hurting, that much was clear from her earlier behavior towards Catherine and Ecklie. However, Greg had had no idea how much she was hurting, until she'd told him her story. It wasn't the complete story, he figured, but enough to explain a lot about her. Obviously, she hadn't told many people about her past, afraid of the pity, or the weirdness with which people would react toward her. He could understand that, certainly, but what he didn't understand was why, after almost five years with them in Vegas, she still hadn't told anyone. And then it hit him; she had just told him. Before Nick and Warrick. Before Grissom, even. She trusted him above all others. Her trust and faith in him humbled him a bit, and his frown transformed to a smile. He cautiously leaned over Sara, half afraid she'd wake up and smack him for what he was about to do, but he did it anyway. He kissed her forehead softly. When he leaned back, he stared right into her open eyes. And gulped.

"Hey," Sara said softly, smiling at him. "You're still here."

"Uh, yeah," Greg said carefully, awaiting the verbal reprimand and/or the smack. "I uh, didn't want to, ah, leave you alone. I didn't want you to, um, think that I… that I didn't care."

Sara reached out and cupped his cheek gently. "Thank, Greg. That means a lot to me, especially right now."

Realizing that Sara wasn't going to hit him or verbally assault him for being so blasé and kissing her on her forehead, Greg returned her smile and took her hand in his, squeezing it in support. "I'm not going anywhere, Sara. You're stuck with me, your own personal Greg, only $29.95 plus tax."

"Hmmmm," Sara said teasingly. "My own, personal Greg. Whatever will I do with him?"

Greg raised his eyebrows up and down, a la Groucho Marx, and said, "I can think of some things I'd like for you to do to me."

"You're incorrigible," Sara commented, sitting up and smiling brightly, tugging on his hand.

Taking that as a cue to sit next to her, Greg plopped down on the couch as close to Sara as he could get and put his arm around her, squeezing her body against his. "But you love me anyway, right?" he asked, batting his eyelashes and plastering on an exaggerated pout.

Sara laughed then and ran her hand up the back of his neck and into his hair, messing it up even more than it already was. "I wouldn't have you any other way, Greg."

"Ah, so you do want me! I knew it! No woman can resist the Sanders Charm!" Greg shouted happily, making a fist and pumping it into the air.

Sara just smiled brightly again and shook her head in acceptance and resignation. Greg was Greg, and he wasn't going to change around her, even after what she'd revealed to him. He was still acting silly and flirting with her, and that small action on his part went a long was towards making Sara feel comfortable with herself and her dark past. She'd finally told someone, someone she so desperately hoped she could trust, and he hadn't disappointed her. He'd held her and let her cry it out, comforted her enough so that she could fall asleep, had stuck around until she had woken up, and was now treating her just as he did before. And the best part was, he was being so natural about it, he wasn't pretending just so that her feelings weren't hurt. He really was the same with her. She had made the right decision in telling Greg about her past.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed by her revelation, Sara glanced at her watch and gasped. "I slept for five hours straight?"

"No," Greg said, "We slept for five hours straight. Or you did and I almost did. I was woken up by someone coming by to see you maybe fifteen minutes ago."

"Who?" Sara asked.

"Grissom," Greg said slowly. "He wanted to know what had happened, why you got so angry and yelled at Catherine and Ecklie."

"You guys let me sleep?"

"Yeah. You looked so beaut…uh, peaceful," Greg stumbled, blushing. "We figured you needed the sleep more than a lecture from Gris. But, uh, he did ask me if I knew what was going on with you."

"What did you tell him?" Sara asked softly, looking away from Greg's flashing brown eyes and staring at her feet in fear. Maybe she'd been wrong to trust Greg; maybe he told her secret, betrayed her. She felt the fear creeping up into the pit of her stomach, and she began to feel nauseous. Thoughts of how the truth of her past would spread through the crime lab faster than the rumors about Warrick and Catherine sprang into her mind, and she was so focused on them that she almost missed what Greg said next.

"Not the specifics, no. I wouldn't betray you like that, Sara," Greg informed her gently, running his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"But you did tell him something," Sara stated in a shaky voice.

"Yeah," Greg admitted, lowering his head a little to try and catch her gaze. However, she refused to look at him. "He needed to know something, anything, to justify his going back to Ecklie and defending you. A reason to protect you and let you keep your job."

"And what…what did you say?" she asked, her voice going from shaky to squeaky, taking on a panicky lilt.

"I told him that you had first hand knowledge about domestic violence. But I didn't say anything more than that, Sara, I swear," Greg said quickly, voice rising a little. He was afraid now, afraid that Sara was going to push him away after what he'd told Grissom. She still hadn't looked at him, and that was not a good sign.

Sara let out a deep breath that she didn't even know she'd been holding, relief washing over her. She ran her hands through her dark hair, breathing in and out, trying to calm herself down from her near panic episode. He hadn't betrayed her. He'd said just enough to help her and to help Grissom protect her, but he had not broken her confidence. She nodded her head and was about to say something to put Greg's fears to rest when Greg rushed ahead and continued his explanation.

"I couldn't lose you, Sara, so I told Grissom that. Anything after that he put together on his own. I don't think he knows the truth about your parents, but he said that he suspected you knew about abuse because of your previous reactions in other cases…"

"It's okay, Greg," Sara interrupted him. "It's okay."

"Please don't be mad at me, Sara, I just couldn't let him fire you, I can't lose you and …"

"Greg!" Sara said forcefully, taking his head in her hands and looking directly into his troubled eyes in an attempt to calm the increasingly hysterical ex-lab rat turned field mouse. He was so upset, so afraid that he'd messed up and ruined everything that he was practically hyperventilating. Sara knew she had to reassure him, calm him down, or he'd be in worse condition than she was. "It's okay. You did the right thing in telling Grissom that. I'm not mad at you." She was careful to enunciate each word so that he would clearly hear what she was telling him.

"I…I did?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes. You're doing all you can to help me. I really appreciate that," she assured him as calmly as she could.

"You promise you're not mad at me?"

Sara nodded, noting that his breathing had returned to normal, and his eyes looked less wild with fear. "I promise. And even if I was, you know I can't stay mad at you for more than a few minutes anyway," she said, pulling Greg into a hug.

"Ha! The Sanders Charm strikes again." He tightened his arms around Sara pulling her even closer against him, rubbing her back soothingly with one of his hands. The other cupped the back of her neck, tangling in her hair. He held her close for a few moments, and then groaned. "I really, really, really, just want to stay here, but I hafta go home and shower and change before shift starts."

Sara sniffed him and made a face. "I wasn't going to say anything, since you've been so good to me and all, but…"

"Ha ha, very funny," Greg said wryly, pulling away from her, but continuing to touch her with his hands by placing them on her sides just above her hips. "Maybe I could call in sick…"

"No, you should go to work. I'll be okay," Sara said, trying to sound convincing.

"Call me if you need anything, even if it's just to talk?" Greg pressed, not at all convinced. When Sara nodded her assent, Greg heaved himself up off the couch and made his way to the door. He opened it, but didn't step out right away, instead turning to face his friend once again. "Can I, um, can I come back and take you out to breakfast after shift?" he asked quickly, nervously, his face blushing red.

"I'd like that," Sara replied with a smile. Then she narrowed her eyes and raised her finger at him. "And don't you dare make some corny joke about the third time being the Sanders Charm."

"Why would I? You just made it for me," he pointed out with a goofy grin all over his face. Dodging a throw pillow, Greg ducked out the door still wearing that goofy grin. He finally had a true date with Sara Sidle.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Still Waters Run Deep

Chapter 2

Catherine Willows marched down the crime lab hallway, making her way to the break room where she knew both Warrick and Nick would be. She still couldn't get Grissom's earlier parting words out of her mind. 'I'm afraid that if I let Greg work with you right now, I'll have two suspended CSIs on my shift.' What had he meant by that? Was Greg that angry with her that he'd blow up at her as well? Why would Greg be angry with her? The fight between her and Sara had nothing to do with him. She'd always gotten along well with the younger man, first when he was in the lab, and then when he broke out of his mold and started his training as a CSI. Greg had always seemed to respect her, to look up to her, and be friends with her, even after she nearly killed him by accidentally blowing up the lab. She, in return, had helped him to get the opportunity to become a CSI, worked with him to foster his confidence when Grissom shot him down. In truth, she really liked the annoying younger guy. She had let him know that he could always come to her with a question or a problem, and that she'd do everything she could to help him. And then he had. He had come to her last night, after hearing about Sara's suspension, and asked for her help in fixing it. And, of course, Catherine had still been fuming at Sara and had blown Greg off, siding with Ecklie on this one. Apparently, Greg's loyalties lay more with Sara than with her.

She paused at the door to the break room, observing Nick and Warrick, her shift guys now. Where would their loyalties lie? Were they angry with her now, as well? She doubted that Warrick would let this fight between her and Sara interfere with his work, but how about his personal life? He and Sara were good friends, despite their rocky start, and actually worked very well together. And then there was Nick. Nick, who didn't often like to rock the boat. She knew he'd outwardly agree with her, support her and follow her. But inward? Catherine was sure that for a while, in the beginning, Nick had had just the littlest bit of a crush on Sara, and wasn't sure which side he'd choose.

"Hey Cath," Warrick said, looking up when he caught her standing there out of the corner of his eye. "What's going on around here?"

Catherine came into the room and stood over the two guys. "What do you mean?" she asked, feigning confusion. She was unsure how much she could reveal about what had transpired between her and Sara, of her joint recommendation with Ecklie that Sara should be fired, and about how Grissom had shown very clearly with whom his loyalties lay. Once upon a time she'd have told them all of it. But that was before she'd become their supervisor. As a friend and a co-worker she would have told them anything. Now that she was their leader, she wasn't sure how open she should, or could, be with them. This job should have come with a handbook.

"Nothing, really," she lied to them. She could tell they didn't believe her, but she refused to elaborate. This really was none of their concern, and she didn't want this hanging over their heads, or for them to feel that they had to choose sides. There shouldn't be sides, anyway. She and Sara had had a disagreement, that's all. And once they'd both calmed down, they'd work it out and things would be back to normal. "Since Sara's been…taken off the case, I need one of you to accompany me to where the victim worked."

Nick nodded. "I'll go."

As Catherine and Nick left Warrick alone in the break room he called out to them, "Bring me back something good!"

Grissom looked up from the report he was reading at the sound of knocking on his office door. Seeing Greg standing in the doorway, he motioned for the younger man to come in and to shut the door. Greg did as he was told, then took a seat across from Grissom, not sure where to start with this conversation.

"How is she?" Grissom said, speaking first.

Greg shrugged. "Okay, I guess. She woke up not long after you left, and I told her about our conversation. I think she's going to be okay. She obviously didn't kill me for what I said to you."

"I don't think Sara could ever kill you, Greg. She cares about you too much. You're probably the only person in this entire lab that she can't stay angry with," Grissom pointed out, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I don't know how you manage that…"

"I spike her coffee," Greg joked, glad that Grissom was making this easier on him. Greg had been dreading coming into this office and talking to Grissom about Sara. He knew that Gris cared more for their co-worker than he let on; Greg could see it in Gris's eyes every time he looked at Sara. He also knew that, deep down, Grissom was jealous of him and his relationship with Sara. Thought he was a threat. That idea actually made Greg laugh, since he figured he didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting together with Sara Sidle. The woman ate, drank, and breathed Gil Grissom. But, of course, you couldn't convince Grissom of that little fact. Greg fervently hoped that Grissom would not take the fact that Sara had spoken to him, Greg, about what was bothering her instead of Grissom as a sign that she had moved on. Although, some deep, hidden, persistent voice in the back of Greg's mind kept quietly whispering to him that she had told him, not Grissom. She trusted him more than Grissom.

And that was what bothered him the most when it came to talking to Grissom about Sara.

"As long as it's with nothing illegal," Grissom deadpanned. Then suddenly, a small smile made its way onto his face, showing he was joking.

Greg just shrugged his shoulders in response, then suddenly grinned broadly. "You had me there for a second, Gris. Good one."

"I try," Grissom responded, then stood up. He gathered together many of the over-stuffed folders on his desk cradled them between his arm and torso. "Let's go. Shift is starting and I have an assignment for you and Sofia."

Greg followed Grissom's example and stood up, following the older man out of his office and toward the break room where they were both sure Sofia would be waiting for them. Both men were completely unprepared to find Warrick there as well, eating, while Sofia regaled him with a story from when she was still on day shift.

"And so it turned out to be the clown," she said, barely able to contain her laughter.

Warrick threw back his head and roared in amusement. "Man! What a story! Ecklie must have hit the roof on that one!"

"Just about," Sofia confirmed, then looked up, sensing others in the doorway. "Grissom, Greg, hi."

"Sofia," Grissom responded politely. "I have something for you and Greg to do." He rifled through the top folder in his stack and handed her a slip of paper with the details for the location of their case as well as the name of the detective on site. "A dead body with suspicious circs in the woods around Lake Meade. Brass is waiting for you."

"Can I drive?" Greg pleaded with Sofia, playfully batting his eyes at her.

"Does Sara let you drive?" Sofia asked him back, not really seeming all that interested, too busy learning the basics of their case.

"No?" Greg almost questioned, not sure what the right answer would be. Would she feel sorry for him then and let him drive, or should he have lied so that Sofia thought he drove to crime scenes all the time?

Sofia began to leave the break room then, blonde hair swinging against her shoulders, pausing slightly at the door for Greg to get the hint that they were leaving and to follow her. Luckily, he did, and as they walked down the hall Sofia answered Greg, her eyes still on the assignment slip. "Then what makes you think I will?"

"'Cause you feel sorry for me that she never lets me drive?" Greg reasoned, scratching his head and making his blonde spikes stick up even more.

"Sure, I'll let you drive," Sofia stated firmly. "When Sara does."

Warrick's loud laughter could be heard from the break room long after Sofia and Greg had left.

Once he had quieted down, Warrick noticed that Grissom was still in the break room, now pouring himself a cup of coffee over at the counter by the sink. Warrick took a moment to study his former boss, taking in his tired appearance. Grissom actually looked old. For the first time since Warrick had known him, Grissom did indeed look every bit of his fifty years. The crow's feet around his eyes were more noticeable. There was no longer any trace of brown in the man's gray hair. He'd put on a few pounds, and it certainly showed both around his middle and around his face. Grissom was tired, old and tired. These signs, his appearance, had not been there before Ecklie had split up the team, of that Warrick was certain. This new, older, Grissom, was a recent development, and Warrick wondered why.

"Hey Gris," Warrick called out, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the table. He laced his fingers behind his head, stretching out his elbows. "We don't get to see much of each other anymore, huh? How are you doing?" Warrick was trying to carefully draw Grissom out and find out what was going on without the entomologist knowing what he was doing. Grissom rarely answered straightforward questions about himself, his feelings and his health. But maybe, if Warrick was casual about it and didn't come out and ask directly, but rather gently probed and made it seem like his was interested in something else, Grissom might let something slip.

"I'm fine, Warrick. How are you?" Grissom responded, not taking the bait dangling in front of him. He turned to face Warrick and leaned back against the counter, blowing briefly on the mug of hot coffee before tentatively taking a small sip. Grissom knew what Warrick was doing. He knew that he had changed in the last few months, and maybe not for the better. He knew that he looked old, that he looked tired, and that he now looked like a man of fifty. And truth be told, he was fifty, and he was old and tired. Too old and tired to be playing games or to change his ways.

Warrick shrugged nonchalantly. "Ah, doing okay. I miss working with you guys, though. Not that Nick and Cath aren't great," he quickly amended. "I just sometimes miss your quiet ways, your need to teach."

Grissom looked taken aback by the blatant compliment, but quickly recovered and smiled softly. "Well, thank you Warrick. That's good to hear, although, I have to admit, I haven't been doing much teaching lately."

"What do you mean? Greg went from a lab rat to CSI field mouse in almost record time," Warrick pointed out, leaning forward in his seat.

"Not because of me," Grissom stated. "I may have begun his teaching, but I certainly didn't conclude it." Grissom swallowed the rest of the horrible lab coffee, making a disgusted face, then rinsed out his mug. Grabbing the stack of folders on the counter, he made his way over to the table and sat across from Warrick, almost slamming the pile of folders down in front of him. "These last few months, basically since Ecklie was promoted, I've had to take on much more paperwork than I've had in the past. And then, after Ecklie split us onto different shifts, I had even more administrative duties because I no longer had Catherine to fall back on. I certainly didn't have time to teach Greg much of anything."

"So how'd he learn?" Warrick asked.

Grissom winced before continuing. "Truthfully? I kinda threw Greg at Sara and told her good luck."

"Damn! That girl did a great job!" Warrick extolled. "Greg's one of the most competent rookies I've ever worked with, including me and Nick."

"Yeah," Grissom said wistfully, thinking about Sara and his lost chance with her, "She did." Then, realizing he was treading on dangerous ground, he gathered up his folders once more and stood up, his intent to leave obvious. "Well, I have to go finish off these reports. Let me know if you need anything, Warrick." With that, Grissom left, leaving Warrick alone with his thoughts.

Sofia Curtis drove just above the speed limit as she made her way to the crime scene Grissom had sent her on. She glanced over briefly at Greg, before returning her gaze to the dark road ahead. Her normally ebullient passenger was unusually quiet, so much so that Sofia was deeply worried about him. By now, ten minutes into their thirty minute drive to Lake Meade, Greg would be an endless, bouncing, ball of excitement and energy. But not this night. This night he was sedately sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the side window, and were it not for the occasional eye-blink reflected off the window, Sofia would have guessed that her co-worker was sleeping.

"Greg?" she asked softly, breaking the silence. "Are you okay?"

"Huh? What?" Greg asked, turning in his seat to face her, a confused look on his face.

"I just asked if you were okay," Sofia reiterated, blue eyes intent on the road ahead.

"Yeah, sure, I'm fine," Greg said not all that convincingly. He ran his fingers through his hair, almost unconsciously, spiking it even more.

"Are you sure?" Sofia prodded, concerned, taking note of his gesture. True, she didn't know Greg all that well yet, but from what she'd seen, he tended to run his fingers through his hair when he was nervous. Or worried.

"Yeah," Greg said again, trying to sound more confident. "I just wish that…" he trailed off.

"That you were working with Sara instead?" His first look was that of surprise, and then moved quickly to apologetic. Sofia brushed it off and continued before Greg could say anything. "It's okay. I know that I haven't been completely included into 'the group' yet, that it'll take time, because of the position Ecklie has put us all in. I understand and I'm not trying to push into territory where I'm not wanted. She'll be back to being your mentor and partner in a week."

"It's not that, Sofia. Believe me, I know that I can learn just as much from you as from Sara. I'm not stupid enough to cut off one of my resources," Greg tried to explain. "It's just that…well…" Greg squirmed uncomfortably while Sofia waited for him to continue. "Sara's been…I've only…I'm new at this. And Sara's the only other CSI that I've worked with so closely, one on one, you know. Grissom really doesn't count, and besides, I always screw up around him because I'm terrified that I'll screw up around him and he'll get very angry with me, as he usually does, and, well, Sara…" Greg scrubbed his face with his hands. "Sara doesn't get angry with me when I screw up, but rather talks me through it, helps me figure out the right way. And I guess I'm just nervous working with you because I don't know how you'll react when I screw up…"

Sofia glanced over at her younger companion, smiled at him in understanding, then returned to focusing on her driving. "I'm not going to yell at you if you make a mistake, Greg," she said kindly. "I realize you're very green and need guidance. If you don't know something, just ask me to explain it or help you. I'm not going to bite. We both just need patience to work together and get this right."

Greg smiled sardonically. "Grissom really has very little patience for me. And Sara has all the patience in the world."

"You wouldn't know that by what people say about her around the lab," Sofia commented, curious as to where Greg drew his conclusion.

Greg shook his head in disbelief. "I know what they say, and they couldn't be further from the truth. Well…" he amended slightly, "Her patience is actually on a person to person, day to day basis. She doesn't suffer fools, and she does have a slight problem with authority. But, she's actually a very fun person, and has a sharp wit, keeps me on my toes with my own dirty humor. There's a whole side to her that you only get to see if she feels she can trust you. If she deems you worthy, she's the most caring, patient, loving, wonderful person when she's with you. I don't think I'd be here today, doing this, if she didn't believe in me and tell me that I could," he finished, almost reverently.

"It sounds like you care for her a lot," Sofia observed, taking one hand and hooking her blond hair back behind her ears.

"Yeah, I do," Greg said softly, smiling broadly for a moment, before his smile became a frown. "Do you ever wish that you could go back in time and stop something from happening to help a friend?"

"It's only for a week, Greg. And maybe Sara will feel better now that she got that off her chest," Sofia pointed out.

Greg silently kept the fact that the incident between Ecklie and Sara hadn't been what he was referring to, but rather Sara's past and what had occurred between her parents. If it were possible to change the past, Greg wouldn't hesitate to change the events in Sara's past and keep her from ever having to know the horrible experience she'd suffered as a child.

Before they could continue their conversation, Sofia was pulling up to and parking behind Brass's police force issue Ford Taurus. The veteran homicide detective was waiting outside his vehicle for them, leaning against the trunk and keeping his eyes on the road up, watching as Sofia deftly brought the oversized SUV to a halt. He waited patiently as the two CSIs came out of the SUV and gathered their crime scene kits, then slowly make their way to him.

"What do we have, Jim?" Sofia asked, stopping in front of the shorter man.

Brass shrugged. "Not sure, exactly. Dead body but…well, you be the judge," he said, raising his eyebrows and motioning that she and Greg should follow. He led them down a small path, past two uniformed officers and a young couple huddled under a thick blanket. "Garret Holmes and Casey O'Malley. Out for a romantic midnight picnic and found this." He pushed aside some bushes and unveiled their vic.

Greg stared at what Brass was showing him for a moment, scrunching his face in confusion. It was a body, that much was true, a male body, recently deceased with little decomp and almost no insect activity. But there was something off about this body. Greg took a step forward, past Brass and Sofia, to peer more closely at the victim. He was dressed in a dark business suit, with a light blue tie. His eyes were closed, his brown hair immaculately brushed, and not a mark on his pale skin. For all intents and purposes, it looked as if the man had gotten dressed up, then lay down to take a nap and had never woken up.

Assistant medical examiner, David Philips, was kneeling over the body, pulling out a thermometer to test for time of death. With gloved hands, he pulled the victim's shirt out of his pants and inserted the thermometer into the body and into his liver. After a few moments, the thermometer beeped and David read, "Seventy degrees? What the hell?"

"Thermometer must be broken," Sofia observed. "If this guy was only seventy degrees he'd be all bones."

David agreed, nodding his head. "Sorry, I'll check all my equipment when I get back to the morgue." He ran his eyes over the victim, taking in his appearance. "He sure looks like he just died, doesn't he?" Reaching for the body, he rolled it over, looking for any sign of injury. Startled by what he felt, he let go quickly and the body stiffly fell back to the ground with a thud. "He's stiff as a board! And ice cold!"

"He's been redressed," Greg pointed out, a gloved hand hovering over the man's white work shirt. "Someone missed a button."

"Uh, guys," David said hesitantly, sitting back on his heels and pushing his glasses up farther on the bridge of his nose. "I, um, I'll know for sure when I get back to the morgue and can begin my examination, but I'm uh, pretty sure this guy's been embalmed."

"Embalmed as in already deceased, gone to a funeral home for a make-over, had a service, and buried for the worms?" Greg asked, only half-joking.

"Exactly," David replied, standing up. "Can I move the body now?"

Sofia shook her head. "Lemme just get a few shots first. He may not have been killed here, but he certainly wasn't buried here." As she moved around with her camera she kept speaking. "David, when you get back, print him and run them, see if he turns up. Getting his ID would definitely help us out. If we know how he died, then maybe we can figure out why he was dug up and moved."

Moving away from the body, brandishing his maglite, Greg looked around for anything the killer, or really body snatcher, may have left behind, coming up empty handed. "I got nothing around the body and the dump site!" he called out to his partner and Brass.

Sofia looked up from her camera and glanced around them. "The only way anyone could get the body in here was by the way we all came in." She turned to Brass. "Any drag marks, tire tracks?"

Brass shook his head. "Nothing. Just the footprints from the couple who found the body. And their car, parked a little farther down than ours."

Sofia nodded, putting away her camera. "Okay, David. You can take the body and go. Call me with anything you find." She turned to Greg. "I'm going to go talk to the couple. You and Jim head over to where their car is parked, check it out. Look for any indication that another car might have been there in the past few days. This is a pretty secluded spot, so I doubt many people come up here."

Greg nodded, accepting Sofia as the leader just as easily as he would have accepted Grissom. Or Sara. Grissom, he knew, would probably have insisted Greg stick with him, so he could be observed as he collected evidence, making the job take twice as long. As with Sara, Sofia was telling him she trusted him enough to let him search and collect evidence on his own. True, Brass was tagging along, but Greg knew that was for safety purposes only; Jim wasn't there to look over his shoulder and make sure he was doing his job correctly.

Brass led Greg to the small parking area where the couple's car was located, a small Chevy Cavalier. Shining his maglite around, Greg took in his surroundings. The car park area was very small, only wide enough for maybe three or four, depending upon the size of the vehicles. It was dirt, slightly offset from the road that came up from the south and led back to the main road in a circle, used for people to get to the best hiking trails around Lake Meade. Greg briefly thought about taking Sara here in the future, since he knew she loved to hike. It would make a good date, he realized, hiking, and then maybe cooking her dinner afterwards. He knew that physical activity often helped people let go of stresses in their lives, and he figured Sara needed that more than most people.

Greg was brought out of his thoughts by a tap from Brass on his shoulder. "Okay, rookie, where do you want to start?"

"The witnesses' car, of course. First at a scene…"

"First suspect," Brass finished. "I'm glad to hear some lessons stuck before they let you out by yourself." Brass smiled, letting Greg know it was only a friendly joke.

Greg started to walk to the Chevy, then stopped abruptly, almost falling over. "Hey, Jim? Any other cars up here when you guys arrived?"

Brass shook his head. "Nope. What ya got?" he asked, moving up behind the young CSI.

Greg pointed to something on the ground. "These are pretty new, and I don't think they were made by that small car." Greg was pointing to tire tracks. "Double rowed…car has four back wheels, not two. Probably a truck." He knelt down and opened up his kit, laying out the ingredients he'd need to make a mold of the tire tracks. He pulled out the metal staked and surrounded a clear, undisturbed section of track. Then he removed two blocks of plaster, cracked them, opened them, and poured them between the stakes. As he waited for them to solidify, he stood up. Grabbing his camera, he walked around, snapping pictures of the tracks.

Brass walked around the area as well, being careful not to disturb anything that might be evidence. Finding a cigarette butt, he called out, "Hey, Sanders! Come collect this will ya?" Greg looked up briefly, nodded, then took one last shot before moving back to his kit and getting a plastic evidence baggie and a label. He made his way to the detective, and bent down to see what Brass had found. Greg took a picture first, then using his forceps, he picked up the butt and placed it in the baggie, labeling it with a description of the evidence, the case number, where he found it, the time, the date, lead detective, and his initials. Sara had taught him well.

By that time, Sofia had finished questioning the witnesses and had made her way over to Brass and Greg. "The couple was up here, having a romantic time, when the woman stumbled over a foot sticking out of the brush. He looked in and saw the body. Called 911. End of story. Took saliva swabs from both. What do you have?"

Greg stood up, dangling the baggie. "Cigarette butt, looks pretty fresh. And undisturbed tire tracks that don't belong to that Chevy."

"I didn't smell cigarette smoke on either witness," Sofia said distantly. "Possibly from another source?"

"Perhaps the same person who drove whatever left behind these tracks?" Greg added.

"And dumped the body," Brass finished.

Sofia walked down the corridor towards the fingerprint lab where Mandy had the partial she'd pulled off the cigarette Greg had found. The results from the DNA taken from the cigarette had not matched anyone in CODIS, but Mia had been able to tell gender. It was female. She said she'd keep running a few tests on the sample, try to find some kind of genetic anomaly that might narrow down their suspect. Sofia didn't hold her breath.

Mandy wasn't the only person in the fingerprint lab. Greg was there as well, using one of Mandy's computers to run trace on the tire tracks he'd found. As she walked in, both looked up at her and smiled softly. "Hi, Sofia," Greg said, while Mandy just nodded her head.

"Either of you find anything?" she asked.

"So far no hits in AFIS," Mandy said dejectedly. "I've widened my search to use the FBI database as well. Still running. But I ran the ten card from David. Got a match. A Francis Calder, traffic cop. Died last month at the age of forty two from a heart attack."

"I'll get Brass to collect his medial records and talk to any family," Sofia said. "Good work, Mandy."

"Hey!" Greg called out, feigning hurt. "What about me?"

"What did you get?"

"I sorta got a match," Greg said, as Sofia walked over. "Belongs to a Dodge Ram quad cab, year 2003, double wheels on the back."

"Where's the sorta?"

Greg sighed. "There are only about a million of those registered in Las Vegas and the surrounding area." He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes. "I've been going through each one, trying to see if any belong to someone who lives in close proximity to where the body was found. Or if any belong to anyone who was given a ticket by Calder in the past year…" Greg yawned, cutting off his own sentence. "Haven't brought anything up."

"How far have you gotten?" she asked, looking at his work.

"About half way." He looked at his watch and swore under his breath.

"What?" Sofia asked, staring at him.

"It's late. Or early. It's just that I…uh, I kinda made breakfast plans and…" Greg stammered.

Sofia nodded knowingly. "Go, get out of here. You're maxed out on overtime anyway. I still have some hours, so I'll keep looking."

"You don't have to tell me twice!" Greg practically shouted for joy. "Thanks, see ya tonight!" And he raced out the door at top speed, hardly stopping to change and grab his car keys before he made his way to Sara's apartment. And their morning breakfast date.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Still Waters Run Deep

Chapter 3

Sara was anxiously pacing around her small apartment. Shift had ended a little while ago, and Greg had yet to show up or even to call her. She thought she had made it clear to him that she had agreed to a breakfast date after his shift. And yet, as eager as he had always been to take her out on a date, he had not arrived to collect her. Was it possible that, despite his blatantly constant flirting, he really wasn't that interested in her, either, just like Grissom? Had he only been after the chase, and now that he had caught her and she had agreed to a date, she no longer held any interest for him? No, Sara thought, shaking her head. Greg wasn't that shallow, wasn't that callous with her feelings. He'd always been very sensitive to her moods, always offered his friendship whenever he'd sensed that something was bothering her. He never ignored her or her feelings. And especially, after yesterday…No, Greg was just stuck at work, or had lost track of time. He wouldn't stand her up, not after almost five years of trying to get her to go out with him. Not after the caring he had shown her during her breakdown yesterday. Greg, unlike other men she had known, could never be that cruel.

But, a little voice inside her head whispered, you had once thought that about Grissom, didn't you? And then he goes and tells you to get a life, and when you do, he punishes you for it. He made you feel terrible, like you hurt him so deeply, and all you had done was take his advice, didn't you? Shaking her head, Sara desperately tried to make the voice go away, but couldn't. She stopped her pacing and turned on the CD player to a volume slightly more elevated that normal, hoping to drown out her little voice taking over. Then he tells a murder suspect how he feels about you, but can't tell you to his face. You're just not worth the risk to him, are you? And it's not about age, since he has no problem going out to dinner with Sofia, a woman barely older than you, does he? He just doesn't want you. And why should he, huh? You….

"Sara!"

At the sound of her name, at the touch on her shoulder, Sara whirled around, hands coming up in a defensive posture. She found herself staring into the surprised, and slightly afraid, brown eyes of Greg. His hands immediately went up, palms facing outward, in a non-threatening pose. He took a step back, trying to convey to her that he meant no harm. The wild look in her eyes scared him. She had had no idea he had come into her apartment; her thoughts had obviously been somewhere else, somewhere, by the look of her, he didn't want her to be. Some deep, dark place, close to where she had been yesterday.

It took all of three seconds for Sara's mind to register that it had been Greg who had called out to her and touched her shoulder. Her arms dropped down to her sides and she lowered her gaze, embarrassed and relieved all at once. "Greg, I…I'm…"

"Hey, it's okay," Greg cut her off, voice suddenly soft and consoling. "I didn't mean to scare you like that. I knocked a few times, but you didn't answer. Your door was unlocked and I was afraid something had happened…" He stepped to her, reaching out for her and taking her into his arms. He pulled her body against his, hugging her close and rubbing her back soothingly. "Are you okay?"

Sara leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and pressing her face into the side of his neck. "Yeah," she answered softly. "My thoughts just ran away from me, that's all."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sara shook her head, "Not right now. I just want to…I'm glad you're here."

Greg, unsure how to respond, didn't say anything at all. Instead, he just continued to rub her back and rock her back and forth for a few minutes, until the rumble of his stomach broke the moment. "Uh, sorry about that," he said as she pulled away to look at him. When he saw the amusement in her eyes, Greg laughed out loud. "Guess my stomach kinda ruined the moment, huh?"

"Well, we are supposed to be having breakfast," Sara pointed out, now much happier that Greg had arrived. See, she told the voice in her head, he came, like he promised. I am worth it to him. "Let me just grab my bag and we can go." Sara walked over to the couch and picked up her purse from where she'd left it earlier when she was getting ready and wondering why Greg was late. "Where are you taking me, anyway?"

Greg shrugged. "I was thinking to one of the buffets at one of the casinos, maybe the Peppermill? I like their pancakes. But," he said quickly, running his fingers through his hair, "if there's someplace else you'd rather go…"

"No, the Peppermill's fine. I like their pancakes, too. And they have a large selection of non-meat breakfast foods," Sara agreed. She made her way from the couch to Greg, and started to lead him to do the door of her apartment. Before she got very far, Greg pulled her into another brief, but strong, hug, then let her go. She reached out with her free hand and cupped his cheek, gently rubbing her thumb back and forth for a moment, before letting go and opening her apartment door. Greg reached up and grabbed one of her jackets from the hooks by the door and helped her into it. She looked at him quizzically, but allowed him to wrap her up in her jacket.

"It's kinda cold out there," he explained. "Feels like we might get a storm."

"Thanks," Sara said, smiling at him for his thoughtfulness. Once outside her apartment door, Sara locked up, and then took Greg's offered hand and walked with him down to his car.

"There you are," a voice said, interrupting Sofia as she monotonously looked through DMV records for a possible match to the Dodge Ram from her case. She looked up at the interruption and found Brass in the doorway.

"This is where I've been for a while. What can I help you with?" she asked the older man.

Brass came into the room, waving a folder in one hand. "Got the medical records on your dead body. Pretty healthy guy, up until a few years ago. Had a surgery to unblock an artery in the heart two years ago. I guess it didn't help much."

"I guess not," Sofia said absently, returning her gaze to the computer and her search. "I'm not having any luck here. Too many cars match those tire tracks, and without another clue…" Sofia's cell phone rang then, cutting off her remarks to Brass. Quickly flipping it open she said, "Curtis." There was a long pause before she responded to whoever was on the other end. "Okay, Doc. Be right down." Snapping her phone shut, she stood up and turned to Brass. "Doc Robbins found something with Francis Calder's body."

"Your missing clue?" Brass asked.

Sofia shrugged. "Maybe. Wanna come find out?"

"Lead the way."

Doc Robbins didn't even look up as Sofia and Brass entered the autopsy room. Instead, he simply asked, "Can either of you tell me what this guy died from?"

"Heart attack," Sofia and Brass answered simultaneously, pulling on lab coats to protect their clothing from any of the random body parts or juices that they could come in contact with in the morgue.

"So then his heart wouldn't have been taken for an organ donation," the doc said matter-of-factly. "Which begs the question, why is it missing?"

"What do you mean, missing?" Sofia asked, coming over to the table where Doc Robbins had Calder's body. She quickly pulled her long blonde hair back into a ponytail to keep it from contaminating the body, as well as to keep anything from the body from contaminating it.

"Missing, adjective, meaning absent, gone, mislaid, not there," Robbins said sardonically, finally looking at them for the first time since they'd entered. He was decked out in his own lab coat, slightly bloody from the autopsy, with his plexi-glass face shield covering his face.

"Couldn't you have just missed seeing it?" Brass asked.

Robbins gave him a withering look. "I'm the chief medical examiner for the city of Las Vegas. The day I can't identify a heart is the day they lock me up in an old folks' home." He motioned to the body and his Y-incision. "Someone opened up his body, recently, and it was not done by a professional like myself. I had to cut through sutures to reopen for autopsy, which is not unusual for an exhumed body, especially one that had heart surgery or attempted life-saving measures before death. However, the sutures I cut through were sloppy work, if I do say so myself. No self-respecting surgeon or mortician would have done such shoddy work. Someone else dug him up and opened his chest, then closed it again."

"Why?" Brass asked.

"For his heart, apparently," Sofia answered. "Any other organs missing?"

Doc Robbins shook his head. "No. And nothing else unusual. This man had all the signs of heart disease, but without the heart to confirm, I can't say for sure. But he definitely suffered from arteriosclerosis, was overweight, and his cholesterol levels came back very high. None of his other organs seem to have suffered any damage, but I'm still waiting on the tox report. And, David was right. This man was embalmed."

Brass handed Calder's medical file over to Robbins. "Says he had an operation two years ago to open a clogged artery in his heart."

Robbins took the report and briefly perused the papers, leaning on one of his crutches. "I see that he was diagnosed with coronary artery disease at that time. That could most definitely cause a heart attack. He seems to have taken it seriously, lost almost seventy pounds in the past two years, if this weight from back then is accurate. And it says here that he wasn't an organ donor."

"So, I repeat, why's he missing his heart?" Brass asked.

"That's not my job," Robbins answered back. "All I can tell you is that it wouldn't have been taken for a transplant."

"So why dig him up now, after almost a month, and steal his heart?" Sofia asked, frowning.

"Many people donate their diseased organs upon death to medical labs and universities for scientific study," Robbins informed them.

"But a month after death and burial? And why dump the body then?" Brass pointed out skeptically.

"Could it be possible that someone other than a doctor removed his heart for research?" Sofia asked, staring at the body.

"I did find the suturing particularly inept," Robbins reminded them.

"But who would need to study a diseased organ that wasn't a doctor and research scientist with access to a legally obtained organ?" Brass questioned.

"A medical student," Sofia and Robbins answered at the same time, looking at each other in understanding and amazement.

"So then, to get him back, I put methyl blue indicator in some brownies and gave them to him. He peed blue for three days!" Greg hissed at Sara, eyes bright and dancing in laughter. "He had absolutely no idea what was going on!"

Sara leaned back in the booth and laughed with Greg. "You were such a prankster in college, weren't you?"

Greg shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really. I got picked on, so I had to come up with new and interesting ways to retaliate. It's not like I could have taken anyone in a fight."

"I don't know, Greg, I think you're pretty strong," Sara commented, taking another bite of pancake.

"Now," Greg pointed out. "But back at Stanford, I was a 98 pound weakling with funny hair, and was smarter than all the others in my classes. I ruined all the curves. Everybody hated me." He looked down at his food wistfully, moving it around his plate.

Sara leaned over the table and touched his arm. "No one here hates you just because you're smart. We like that; it keeps us on our toes."

"Yeah, I know," Greg said, still staring at his food. "Sometimes I just wish that I wasn't so smart, though. Because then I would have been going to school with people my own age, not a few years older, so I would have fit it, maturity wise, and then maybe I would have been with girls my own age and they would have gone out with me, and not turned me down numerous times because I was too young for them."

Something clicked in Sara's mind and she tightened her grip on Greg's arm. "Greg, look at me," she commanded. When he didn't, she squeezed even harder, forcing him to wince and look up at her. "Is that why you think I turned you down? Because I thought you were too young?" Greg shrugged his shoulders in answer, but Sara was having none of that. She stared at him, causing him too wilt under her strong gaze and nod his head. "Oh, Greg, that wasn't why I turned you down at all."

"Can I ask why?" Greg asked uncertainly, biting his lower lip, undecided upon whether he wanted to really know the answer or not. "What was wrong with me that you…"

"Nothing," Sara interrupted him, not wanting him to finish that sentence. For some reason, hearing Greg demean himself bothered her. A lot. "There's nothing wrong with you, Greg. That was the problem. I came to Vegas for Grissom; I think that much is pretty clear to everyone who knows me. I wanted to be with Grissom. And then I met you, and you made me laugh, helped me out when I was sad, never pushed me, and made me feel special. And I guess I just…" Sara sighed, not sure how to finish her explanation. "I've never had good success with men. I don't know if it's because there's something wrong with me, or if I just have horrible radar, but I've always been hurt and used. As long as I was fixated on Grissom, on the unobtainable, I couldn't be hurt. Or so I had hoped."

"But he hurt you more than anyone else ever has, hasn't he," Greg said insightfully, removing his arm from her grasp and taking her hand in his instead.

Sara nodded, glad to be holding Greg's hand. It gave her comfort and support, something she desperately needed to keep the voice from coming back and mocking her about Greg now, as well as Grissom. "I came to Vegas for Grissom. I stayed, for Grissom. But now that I've gotten it through my thick head that it's not going to happen between me and Grissom…"

"You're not leaving are you?" Greg asked worriedly, eyes flashing in fear.

"No. I may have been looking for a relationship with Grissom, but I found a family here, with everyone. Albeit, one big, messy, dysfunctional family, but certainly better than any family I've ever known growing up. I'm not ready to leave that simply because the boy I like doesn't like me back."

"Where do I fit in, in this family of yours?" Greg asked hopefully.

"I'm not sure anymore, Greg. You're definitely one of the most important people, but I'm not sure where that is exactly. I know what you want, where you want to be, I'm just not sure I'm ready for that yet."

Greg squeezed Sara's hand in comfort and understanding. "Hey, I'm not going to push you. Just knowing that I'm in the running right now is enough for me."

"How do you get…Nevermind," Sara said when she saw Greg grin mischievously. She realized that she had inadvertently told him that she was considering a relationship with him, and he was just being Greg, playing it up and flirting with her to make her smile. Unfortunately, though she was smiling, she was becoming uncomfortable with this conversation. Originally, she knew that Greg had set out on this breakfast to put her at ease and make her smile. To just be a friend for her and let her know that he was there and that she was safe with him. However, now that they had started to delve into her non-relationship issues with Grissom, and Greg's attraction to her, she suddenly found herself wanting to escape. Greg must have picked up on her discomfort because his next question was completely off the topic.

"Did you hear about then new Mortal Kombat game for playstation?" he asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Sara shrugged, glad for the change of topic, but not sure where her friend was going with this. "No, but I've never really played any video games, Greg."

"Never?" Greg asked incredulously.

Sara shook her head. "Nope. Didn't have any growing up; they weren't a real priority with my parents or foster parents. And I didn't have the time in college, and now I'm an adult, so…"

"So nothing!" Greg said loudly. "You're so coming over now and trying it out. We'll stop by the store and pick up the new game and I'll teach you how to play. Everyone should play once in a while. It's a great stress reliever."

Caught up in the younger man's excitement, Sara nodded her head in agreement. "Okay, but you better not have things running around your apartment, or I'm leaving."

"I promise my apartment is clean and presentable," Greg huffed. "Remember, I'm not the one who keeps experiments in the community refrigerator at work." Finished with their breakfast, they stood up, Greg helping Sara on with her coat. She put one arm through a sleeve, and as she turned to put the other arm through the other sleeve, her ear came very close to brushing across Greg's lips, and she heard him whisper to her, sending shivers down her spine, "For the record, there's nothing wrong with you, either, Sara. You're absolutely perfect, and for those who can't see that, it's their loss."

Warrick ran into Nick in the parking lot of the crime lab as he made his way in for the start of swing shift. He jogged up to the shorter man and nodded to him in greeting.

"Hey, man, how are you?" Nick asked his friend once he'd caught up.

The two resumed their walk into work and Warrick answered, "Not bad. Got some good sleep in. You?"

Nick shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I was trying to call Greg all morning, wonderin' in he wanted to get together and try out the new Mortal Kombat game, but I couldn't get a hold of him. He wasn't answerin' his phone."

"You could have called me," Warrick said, feigning hurt. "I woulda played with you."

"No offense, Warrick, but I actually wanted a real challenge, and I can beat you with my eyes closed," Nick teased, smiling.

"That's only because I let you win to keep from bruising that large ego of yours," Warrick playfully informed Nick. The two kept of their friendly banter all the way into the lab and to the break room where they were to meet Catherine for assignments.

"Hey, guys, nice of you to show up," Catherine said from her seat at the table.

Nick glanced at his watch. "We're only a minute late, Cath."

Catherine shrugged. "Late is late, guys. Here's your assignment. DB found out near Nellis Air Force Base. David's already on scene. I'll be around the lab today, finishing up the paperwork on the Melton case, and they running with anything new that comes in. Page me when you have something to report." Catherine stood up and left the break room, heading to her office to finish her paperwork in peace.

"I'm driving," Nick announced.

"No way, man, you drove last time," Warrick pointed out.

"Rock, scissor, paper?" Nick asked, making a fist.

"One, two, three," Warrick counted down, showing paper.

"Oh man!" Nick complained, his fist in rock formation. "I always lose when we do this."

"That's because you're always rock, so I choose paper," Warrick told him, sliding an arm across Nick's shoulders as they made their way to the locker room to collect their kits.

Once on the road, Nick asked Warrick if he'd heard from Sara. "I tried calling her today, to check on her after her suspension. You know how she can be. But I kept getting her machine and her voicemail."

Warrick shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "If I'd just had a knock down drag out fight with both Catherine and Ecklie, and lost, I'd be hiding too, licking my wounds. And it's certainly not uncommon for Sara to run off, or hide out after something like this, especially if she's angry. She's really not into sharing her feelings and talking things out."

"I know," Nick said sadly. "It's just that all Sara really has is work, and us. I'm just worried."

"Well, you said that you couldn't reach Greg, either. Maybe they went out together today. They have gotten much closer since we've moved over to swing, so maybe Sara feels more comfortable talking to Greg now, rather than us. Plus, since she seems to have a beef with Cath and we work with Cath, she may not have wanted to drag us into the middle and put us in a difficult position, ya know?" Warrick wisely pointed out.

"I hate this split!" Nick suddenly shouted, slamming his fist on the dashboard. "It's ruined everything! We're no longer a team; we barely see Sara and Greg. And Gris. I have no idea what happened between Sara and Catherine and Ecklie! How can I help if I don't know what's going on, huh? Aside from you, Sara was my best friend; she actually would talk to me when something was bothering her, with a lot of prodding of course," Nick quickly added after Warrick's look of disbelief. "Now, we don't talk and…"

"And she has Greg," Warrick added softly. "A little jealously there, Nicky?"

"I don't know, maybe," Nick admitted grudgingly, rubbing his face.

"Did you think we'd all be working together for the rest of our lives?" Warrick asked gently, keeping his eyes on the road ahead for the exit towards Nellis.

"No, I'm not that naïve," Nick told him, shaking his head. "But I figured we had a few more years at least, before we were split up. I like Cath and all, but sometimes…well, I just miss Grissom's leadership, his teaching, ya know? And I miss hanging around with Sara and Greg."

Not sure what to say to comfort his friend, Warrick elected to say nothing, but rather to reach out and squeeze Nick's shoulder in friendly comfort. He, too, agreed with Nick in that he had pictured them all being the perfect little crime-solving team for a few more years. Now, that perfect picture was ripped apart, and it had left them all reeling in the aftermath. Catherine, it had seemed, had jumped right into her role as supervisor, and had no trouble being in charge and doling out orders. However, and Warrick would never say this to her face for fear of pain and death, but in his opinion, Grissom was a much better supervisor than Catherine. Maybe it was experience, though his people experience and skills left something to be desired. No, what it boiled down to was that, where Grissom knew how to teach and let his team learn for themselves, Catherine was trying to hard to remain a friend on the same level as before, as well as be the boss and appear in control of everything. And that, in Warrick's experience, didn't work. Either you were a chum, or you were the head honcho; you couldn't have it both ways. And sometimes, you just had to let your team discover for themselves. It just seemed that, though Catherine could handle more authority, she couldn't be the sole authoritarian.

At first, Warrick had thought that he was the only one who felt this way. It seemed that now, Nick was voicing a similar opinion. And truth be told, Warrick missed spending time with Sara and Greg as well. He wondered briefly if, had they all still been a team, if Sara would have lost her cool with both Catherine and Ecklie in the same night, resulting in her suspension. Probably not, he concluded. First off, they wouldn't have even had the case; the original swing shift would have handled it. But, even if things had been different and grave had taken the case, everyone on grave knew that Sara had issues with cases involving violence against women that ran deeper that just the mere fact that she was a woman, though no one seemed to know what the issues were. Plus, they also knew Catherine and Sara often differed on how to approach interrogations over his subject matter, and he, Nick, and even Grissom, as oblivious as he could be, kept the two women at different ends of the case to avoid such conflicts from ever taking place. Warrick couldn't really remember a time when Sara and Catherine worked together, alone, on a domestic violence or rape case. There had been that snuff film case two years ago, where they had worked very closely together through much of the case, but nothing, really, since then that was just the two of them.

Warrick was abruptly pulled from his musings when Nick pointed ahead and said, "There's our crime scene." Warrick followed where Nick had pointed, turned right onto a dirt road, and pulled the SUV between the coroner's van, and Detective Vartann's Ford. Getting out, the two men collected their crime scene kits and walked over to the homicide detective and the assistant medical examiner.

David was kneeling down next to the body, face screwed up in confusion, shaking his head. "I just don't get it. Two, in less than twenty-four hours. Why?"

"Two what, Super Dave?" Nick asked, bending down to get a closer look at the dead body.

"Two dug up bodies," David replied. "Judging by liver temp, this body's been dead a very long while, and my guess, she's already been embalmed, or she wouldn't look this well preserved. Greg and Sofia had a case exactly like this last night, except their body was male."

"Do you know any of the particulars from their case?" Nick questioned, shining his maglite over the dead body, searching for anything out of place.

"Not really" David replied. "Just that the body had been redressed, and that it had already been embalmed previously. I'm not sure what Doc Robbins found; I had to go out on a call when he performed the autopsy."

"So, two dumped corpses within a day of each other?" Warrick spoke up. "They've gotta be related somehow. Too big a coincidence not to be."

"How was this body found?" Nick asked Vartann.

"Video satellite telemetry from Nellis. I've already requested any video we can have that's not classified. Someone will drop that off at the lab for you guys later," Vartann informed them. "They were just doing a routine daily sweep to make sure there weren't any trespassers and found the body."

"Do they do the sweep the same time every day?" Warrick asked. When Vartann nodded Warrick smiled. "Sweet. You just narrowed down our time scale. The body was dumped sometime between the two satellite sweeps, leaving us with only twenty-four hours that we have to account for. The body couldn't have been here for more than a day." He turned to Nick. "I'm going to have a look around. Take photos of the body, then ride back with David and go through the autopsy with the Doc. Find out what you can about Greg and Sofia's case. I'll run with whatever I find here and meet up with you later."

"Who put you in charge?" Nick joked as he positioned his camera over the body.

"I drove, so I'm in charge," Warrick snapped back just as lightheartedly, grabbing his kit and moving away. He spiraled out from the body, his eyes roaming across the ground, looking for something, anything, that could lead them to a suspect. About fifteen yards southwest from the body, Warrick kneeled down and, using forceps, picked up a half-used cigarette. He placed the evidence in a plastic bag, sealed it and labeled it. He then stood up and continued his outward spiral for almost two hours, finding nothing but the cigarette. Defeated, he made his way back to the SUV and Vartann. David, Nick, and the dead body were no longer around. Shrugging at the detective, he held up his lone piece of evidence. Without saying a word, the two men got into their respective cars and headed back to the PD and crime lab.

"Hey, Greggo," Nick called out as he saw the younger CSI walking down the hallway ahead of him. He saw Greg stop quickly and turn about, waiting for him. Nick jogged the short distance and came to a halt. "I tried to call you almost all day. Where were ya?"

"I was hanging out with Sara, and then went to bed until a little while ago. I turned my phone off so I could get some uninterrupted sleep; I didn't get much yesterday," Greg smoothly told a half-lie. True, he had spent the morning with Sara, but also the afternoon as well. After breakfast, as promised, he'd picked up the new video game and taught Sara how to play. Eventually, he started to play solo in an attempt to show her some fancy moves. After one particularly good punch/kick combo, he turned to grin at her and found her passed out on his couch. He didn't have the heart to wake her up, and, looking at the time, he realized he should get some sleep himself, or he'd be bone tired through shift. He had shut off the TV, covered Sara with a warm blanket, and then went to his bedroom to sleep as well. He had awoken some time later to swearing in his kitchen; Sara had been trying to make him something to eat before his shift and was fighting a losing battle. Instead, they had ordered a quick pizza, and after a short shower, he dropped her back off at her apartment on the way to the lab, promising to pick her up the next morning for another breakfast date.

Nick didn't need to know any of this, Greg realized. It wasn't his business unless Sara made it his business. This was about her, and as much as Greg wanted to shout from the rooftops that Sara had agreed to not one, but now two dates with him, he kept his mouth shut. The rumor mill of the lab was already grinding with gossip about Sara, her altercation with both Catherine and Ecklie, and her subsequent suspension; he didn't need to add more fodder about a woman who wanted to keep her life private.

"Oh, how is Sara? I tried to call her earlier to check on her, but she didn't answer," Nick asked.

Greg shrugged. "She's Sara. She's fine. She's going stir crazy already with no work to occupy her time."

"I'll bet," Nick agreed, smiling knowingly. "Did she tell you what set her off and made her go postal on Cath and Ecklie?"

Greg lied, shaking his head. "Nah. She didn't seem to want to talk about it, so I didn't press her." Knowing he had to change the subject and fast, Greg started to walk away from Nick. "Sorry, but I gotta run and meet up with Sofia about our case…"

"About that," Nick continued, keeping pace with Greg. "Warrick and I picked up a case today that David said was very similar to yours. DB dump, already embalmed. We might be working the same case."

"Did you find tire tracks or a cigarette butt?" Greg questioned, now interested and no longer trying to get away from Nick, now that the focus had moved from Sara to work.

"Not that I know of, but I went back with David and the body. Doc Robbins confirmed that my DB had been embalmed and that no organs were missing except her heart. I'm on my way now to see if Mandy got anywhere with her ten card, and then to see what Warrick found from the scene. We should all meet up in a while and see if we can pull from both our cases."

"I don't know much right now; I took off for breakfast before Doc Robbins gave his report, but I'll bet Sofia knows. She stuck around. Beep me and Sofia when you and Warrick are ready to talk," Greg suggested, turning away from Nick and entering the break room to grab a cup of coffee. As he was pouring, his beeper went off, Greg and causing him to spill hot coffee over his had. Cursing softly, he ran his hand under cool water as we impatiently checked his beeper to see who had paged him. Mia. After he felt that he had sufficiently treated his hand, he turned off the faucet and made his way to the DNA lab, where he found Nick, Warrick, and Sofia all assembled around Mia.

"Okay, we're all here," Warrick said. "Why'd you page all of us?"

"Your cases are related. The DNA I pulled from Greg and Sofia's cigarette is the same that I pulled from yours and Nick's," Mia informed the four CSIs. "And they each seemed to have the same or similar foreign substance on them, so I sent them both over to trace. Hodges might have something for you."

"But you don't have a suspect for us, since CODIS came up empty," Sofia pointed out.

"Yeah, but I did find something that can narrow down your search," Mia offered. "I ran some random genetic tests and something jumped out. The person who smoked those cigarettes, they suffer from sickle cell disease. They're positive on both alleles."

"How does this help us?" Nick asked.

"Sickle cell disease affects people of African, Middle Eastern, or Mediterranean decent. Most common in the US is those of African decent, about 1 in 650 or so. I performed an autosomal DNA test, and, keeping in mind that many of these tests haven't been proved 100 percent accurate, it shows that the person is of African decent," Mia told them.

"So," Sofia summarized, "We're looking for an African American female who has sickle cell disease."

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

Still Waters Run Deep

Chapter 4

Gil Grissom stared around the conference table at the assembled CSIs. It had been nearly a week since the first dug up body had been found. Nearly a week since both swing and grave had started working a dual case. Nearly a week since he's had to abide by the suspension of one of the best CSIs he's ever worked with. Nearly a week, and since the first two bodies had been found, three others had followed, and no new evidence. Grissom had no idea where to go from here. Without new evidence, there were no more leads. All they knew about their suspect was that it was a woman, most likely of African descent, and suffered from sickle cell disease. She was a smoker, and drove a Dodge Ram. Maybe.

Sitting next to him on his right was Warrick. The tall man was leaning back in his chair, hands laced behind his head, staring at the ceiling. For the past week it had been Warrick's job to try to track down every owner of a 2003 Dodge Ram quad cab and ask for a DNA sample to try to match it with the one they got off the cigarette butt. Of course, Greg had pointed out that there had been close to a million registered in the county. Actual count, Warrick had discovered, was more like 300,000, but still, that's a lot of cars and owners, most of whom were not compliant. He had started out with the registered owners who were women and black, but no matches had come back from those who had offered their DNA, which had only been about thirty or so. Without a warrant, there was nothing Warrick could do to get samples from the uncooperative people, and so the man was fast approaching an impasse in his part of the investigation. He was frustrated beyond all hell.

On the other side of Warrick was Greg. Grissom had assigned him the collection of any evidence from new bodies discovered that could match their current case. So far, the only evidence Greg had been able to pull from the three new bodies were matching cigarette butts with matching DNA profiles and partial fingerprints, and matching Dodge Ram tire tracks. Nothing new. He could see in Greg's eyes that the newest CSI was starting to doubt his own abilities in evidence collection. With three new cases, there should be at least one or two new pieces of evidence, and Greg was feeling upset and concerned that he hadn't found any, lending credence to his belief that he wasn't a good enough investigator, that he was a failure in Grissom's eyes.

Directly across from Grissom was Sofia, who's job it had been to follow up on the cigarette butts. She'd identified the type of cigarette as a Marlborough Lite, which, to their disappointment, was one of the most popular brands of cigarettes. If it had been something unusual or exotic, they might have had a chance of tracking down the smoker, but, as Sofia learned, about 85 of the female smokers in Las Vegas smoked Marlborough Lites. She could go nowhere with the fingerprints, since they did not match anyone in AFIS or IAFIS. She'd even called in markers from other states to go through their state-wide databases, only to come up empty. Their suspect, it seemed, did not have a prior record.

After Sofia was Nick. Nick had been looking into any possible connections between the five victims. He'd found a few, but none that connected them all, or that was of any real significance. It seemed that Officer Calder had once dated the fourth victim, Cynthia Hazem, back in college, but was unable to find out if they had each known the other was in Vegas at any point. Cynthia Hazem had been found three days earlier on the football field of McKinley High School. She'd been living in Henderson for the past eleven years, after her husband had been transferred from Harrah's Hotel and Casino in Reno to Harrah's in Las Vegas. Her husband, Ned Hazem, was the hotel manager. Nick had learned, in speaking with Mr. Hazem, that Cynthia didn't have much of a social life, and that she had never mentioned Francis Calder. Officer Calder's widow had said the same about the name Cynthia Hazem, or her maiden name, Cynthia Cotes.

Catherine, sitting next to Nick, had been searching through the medical school at the University of Nevada. Their best bet, according to Doc Robbins, was that the person committing these crimes had knowledge of medical procedures, and that these stolen body parts were being sold. Of course, they were diseased body parts, and a month to three after death, so chances were they weren't being sold on the black market. But, as Sofia had pointed out, the diseased organs could be being sold for medical research, and a medical student had the knowledge to remove them, and the need for money.

Lastly, Grissom had been looking into the possibility that it was a doctor herself who was digging up the bodies and removing the organs. So far it had been two hearts, two livers, and one kidney. He'd also been going through hospital records, looking for another connection between the five victims. The only connection so far…they'd all died at Desert Palm. In his investigation, Grissom had learned that close to three hundred people had access to the dead patient files and the morgue, but no one seemed to have had contact with all five dead bodies. Discouraged, he'd asked Brass and Vartann to help by interviewing all three hundred people, trying to ferret someone out. It had been four days, and so far, they hadn't come up with anyone.

"Okay, I think we need to change our strategy," Grissom informed the other CSIs. "The cigarette is getting us nowhere, so Sofia, I want you to go through all the medical records I obtained from Desert Palm. Go over them and see if I missed something. Talk to anyone you find suspicious. Coordinate with Brass and Vartann. Nick, I want you to help Warrick. Right now, our best shot is finding someone with sickle cell disease who drives a Dodge Ram. Greg, you help Catherine interview people over at the medical school. You're also on call with me for any new cases that come in. I'm going to be in the morgue going over the bodies with Doc Robbins again."

"This case is really turning into a Burke and Hare. All these dead bodies with organs missing, presumably for medical research…" Catherine pointed out.

"No," Greg said, shaking his head. "Not Burke and Hare. Those guys actually killed people to sell to doctors for medical research. Our victims, they were all dead and buried already. Someone dug them up, so that makes our suspect more like DaVinci or Michelangelo, who used to dig up dead bodies and study them."

"Very good, Greg," Grissom praised, raising an eyebrow. "Where'd you learn the distinction between the two?"

"Uh, Sara," Greg replied, looking down at the table. "She, uh, explained the history of grave robbing to me, and, uh, explained how it's different from body snatching."

"You've discussed this case with Sara?" Grissom prodded, trying to gauge the exact state of Sara and Greg's relationship.

"Yeah, I may have mentioned the case to her over breakfast or something," Greg admitted. "We really have talked only a little about work. Mostly we talk about things we did when we were younger. Turns out our Sara was a bit of a rebel when she was younger."

"Goody toe shoes science nerd Sara?" Nick asked incredulously. "I don't believe that. You're pullin' our legs."

"Nah uh. Sara had this very close friend, Ben Sattler, in high school. Where Sara was a nerd, Ben was…well, he struggled with school, had been left back a few times. Anyway, he asked Sara to help him cheat on a Math test once. He even went as far as to steal the test and ask Sara to fill in the answers for him. Instead, Sara offered to tutor him, and they tried, and Ben was slowly getting it, but not fast enough for a test in two days. So, Sara goes to their Math teacher to try to get him an extension, right? Well, the teacher came right out and told Sara she was wasting her time trying to help Ben, that the kid was worthless and a loser and wouldn't amount to anything. So, what do you think Sara did?" Greg asked, stopping there for dramatic effect.

"She worked with him all night and he passed?" Catherine guessed, figuring that was how Sara would deal with the situation.

"Nope," Greg replied smugly. "She gave him all the answers to the test and he got an A."

"I can't believe that! Sara cheated! Ms. by the books Sara!" Nick exclaimed.

"But, if this guy usually failed, didn't they get caught?" Warrick asked.

"Sure did," Greg replied. "But Ben, apparently, has a photographic memory. To prove that they didn't cheat, he had to answer one of the test questions in front of the disciplinary committee. And he did, from memory. From then on, Sara tutored Ben and he passed his Math class."

"Ahem," Grissom politely broke in, "As much as hearing about Sara's past excites us all, we have a job to do here." He glared at the other CSIs around the table. "Why don't we table this discussion until tomorrow night when Sara is back and can give us the true, unembellished version of the story."

"You're right, Gris. Sorry," Greg replied, chastised. "Cath and I'll head over to the medical school right away." As he walked out behind Catherine he turned around and said, "And it wasn't embellished."

Three hours into their investigation, and Catherine and Greg had gotten nowhere. They were holed up in a small room off the main campus building an UNLV medical school, going through the human resources' records. Nothing suspicious had jumped out at them, and any number of people could be involved in this grave robbing. Catherine looked up as Greg gave a frustrated growl and threw a manila folder full of lab courses across the room to scatter under the window.

"This isn't getting us anywhere!" he cried out. "Why can't we just get the medical records of each person at this school and find the ones with sickle cell?"

"Because we don't have enough for a warrant for that much invasion of privacy," Catherine calmly explained to him. She reached over and placed a hand on his shaking arm. "I know this is tedious and it doesn't look like we've gotten any information, but if we put what we have together with what the others get, we may have something."

"But we haven't got anything," Greg practically whined.

"Sure we do," Catherine informed him. "We have a list of everyone on this campus, all students and teachers, as well as support staff. Including everyone's race and ethnicity. Then all we have to do is pick out the African American females and run them against the list of Dodge Ram owners that Warrick and Nick are putting together…"

"And see if any names come up in common. I see your point," Greg conceded, much calmer now. He took a deep breath, stretched his arms above his head, then got up and retrieved the files he'd thrown at the window in anger. Kneeling down, he began to put them back into some semblance of order, all the while whistling the theme song to MacGyver.

Catherine looked over at Greg in amusement. She never would have pictured Greg as a MacGyver fan. The X-files, definitely, but not MacGyver. "Uh, Greg?" she questioned. He looked up at her and she continued, "MacGyver?"

Greg grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, it's stuck in my head. I was watching a marathon of MacGyver with Sara this morning over breakfast." He returned his focus back to what he was doing before, but this time sans whistling.

Catherine waited for Greg to finish picking up the papers and return to the table before she brought up the topic of Sara again. She new that Greg, though he outwardly appeared to be okay with what had happened between Sara and herself, that deep down he was still angry with her, still blamed her for Sara's suspension. Greg's loyalty had, at one time, been toward Catherine, and now Catherine wondered when it had shifted to Sara. It must have been a gradual shift, since she hadn't seen it happening. But there was no doubt in her mind that Greg was on Sara's side in her conflict with Catherine, that Greg would stand up for Sara, and fight for her. She knew that the young CSI had a crush on Sara, had had one for years, probably since Sara had arrived in Las Vegas and joined their rag-tag team. But she would have thought that Greg would have given up on the brunette by now, with all the times she'd shot him down over date offers. With Sara's deep infatuation with Grissom. But, then again, Catherine thought to herself, Sara hadn't seemed to give up on Grissom either, so what made her think that Greg would give up on Sara?

She was having a hard time wrapping her mind around the fact that every male on their team was loyal to Sara. Greg, for obvious reasons. Grissom had basically told Ecklie that Sara was here to stay and that nothing could make him fire her, and he'd stand in the way of anyone who tried. Brass was overly protective of her, especially since the case with the dead nurse, her chopped up boyfriend, and the jilted ex-lover doctor who they knew committed the crime, but couldn't prove. Even Warrick seemed to have no complaints with Sara. Of course, they had gotten off to a rocky start, Sara coming and investigating Warrick's behavior, and for the first few months they engaged in a slightly antagonistic relationship. But something changed and now, pre team split, the two of them had the highest solve rate as a team than all others at CSI. They worked very well together, and though they may disagree on some facts in their cases, they never seemed to be anything they couldn't overcome. And then there was Nick. Those two, Nick and Sara, had been friends from the get-go. From the first day that Sara was here, they had been embroiled in a friendly race to be at the top. Half-flirting, half friendly banter, they made each other laugh and seemed to recognize something in the other that cemented their iron-clad friendship, something that connected them with each other and no one else. In the almost five years they'd known Sara, she had never seen her fight with Nick. Have a disagreement here or there, yes, but actually fight? Never. Not even when they were both going head to head for the promotion last year, which Nick won, much to the surprise of the entire lab. Unfortunately, the budget was cut and there was no promotion in the end. But still, Nick had won, and Sara had not held it against him, nor had she seemed jealous of him in any way. And when Catherine had congratulated Nick on receiving the promotion, he had just shaken his head and told her that it really wasn't his, but Sara's.

"She's the one who deserves it, not me. Her record is better, her intuition is better, her training skills are better…Grissom's just being a selfish bastard," Nick has said to her.

"Well, he must see something that you don't, because he gave the promotion to you," Catherine pointed out, squeezing his shoulder in comfort.

"Yeah, a way to push her down again and keep her at arms length," Nick commented dryly. "Either he doesn't realize he's succeeded, or he doesn't care. She's over him." Nick then slammed his locker shut and turned to face Catherine for the first time. "I gotta go. Warrick, Sara, and I are meeting for breakfast and I'm late. See ya tonight, Cath."

With that, Nick had left the locker room, leaving a stunned Catherine in his wake. And slightly jealous, as she had not been invited out for breakfast with them.

"I know this is hard for you, Greg," Catherine admitted softly, pretending to read the file in front of her. "You're doing a good job at it."

"What?" Greg asked, looking up at her. "What's hard?"

Catherine sighed. He wasn't going to just let this go, make this easy for her. So, deciding to take the noble road, she continued, "Working with me, when you're so angry with me over what happened to Sara."

"I'm not angry with you," Greg stated, confused.

"But Grissom said that you were," Catherine informed Greg. "That's why he wouldn't lend you out to me to finish that case."

"Since when had Grissom been right about our emotional states and feelings?" Greg asked humorously. When Catherine looked at him disbelievingly, Greg dropped the humorous tone and continued, "I was disappointed that you wouldn't even listen to me and help me get to the bottom of what was wrong with Sara, but I wasn't angry."

"I didn't think anything was wrong with her, other than her ego being upset that I was keeping her in check," Catherine voiced.

Greg shook his head. "She hides it well, almost as well as Gris, but Sara's probably the rawest nerve you'll ever meet. She puts out this tough exterior that nothing bothers her, that she's invincible to emotional pain, but she'd not. She's actually easily hurt, and I think what bothered her the most about that situation was that you didn't ask her what was wrong, like a friend would. She considers you to be a friend. Yeah, she's always seemed closer to me, Nick, and Warrick, but sometimes you just need a female friend, and that was what she needed right then. When you didn't push her to talk about it, she figured that you didn't care, didn't see her as a friend, and so, she lashed out because he was angry with herself for believing that you two were friends."

"I like to think that we are friends," Catherine said slowly. "But she's so closed off most times, I'm not sure what to say. I don't understand her at all."

Greg nodded. "I know. It took me almost five years to get to this point in understanding her. With Sara, it's all about trust. If you show her that she can trust you, really trust you, I bet she tells you why she went postal on you and Ecklie. Sara wants to trust people and she want to be friends. She just doesn't know how; she never learned how as a child."

"But isn't that something you learn from your parents and from friends growing up?" Catherine asked, confused.

Greg shrugged. "Her parents weren't exactly…well…hers didn't. And because of that she really didn't have any friends growing up."

Catherine nodded in understanding. "There's a really sad story there, isn't there?" When Greg refused to answer, Catherine knew for sure. "Okay, that's something she'll have to tell in me when she's ready; I won't push you to break confidence. I hear what you're saying Greg, and when Sara returns to work, I'll try much harder to let her know that we're friends and that she can trust me."

After their small heart to heart, Greg and Catherine returned to the task at hand, which was rifling through everyone associated with the medical school and sorting them into male/female categories, as well as race and ethnicity categories. When two more hours had passed, and Greg read off the final name, he and Catherine let out a collective groan, put the room back into order, and left the medical school with their list, eager to see if any of the 126 African American females matched up to the list Nick and Warrick were compiling.

Nick, Warrick, Catherine, and Greg slowly scanned through the tower of files in front of them on the layout table. The four CSIs were cross referencing the medical school files that Catherine and Greg had obtained with the DMV records Nick and Warrick had. So far nothing had clicked, no link, or even possible link. They barely noticed as Judy came in with a plate of take-out sandwiches from the 24-hour deli down the street, courtesy of the sheriff.

Absently chewing on a corner of a ham and swiss with mayo, Nick checked the open file in front of him twice, just to be sure, then started to snap his fingers to get the others' attention. "I may have something, here," he informed them once they all had turned their gaze to him. "This professor, Doctor James Mendelsen, he drives a 2003 Dodge Ram quad cab…with double wheels on back."

"What exactly does he teach?" Catherine asked, ecstatic that they now may have a lead.

"Says here his courses include Introduction to Patient Relations, whatever that is, Immunology, Congenital Disorders and Diseases…"

"Hold up there, man," Warrick interrupted. "Congenital Disorders and Diseases...Didn't the first body found die of a heart attack?"

"Yeah," Catherine confirmed, picking up a copy of his file. "Without the heart, Doc Robbins couldn't confirm, but the medical records for Officer Calder say as much." She looked over at Warrick. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, even though anyone can have a heart attack, the risk factors can be genetic, such as a propensity for high cholesterol and obesity. The second victim had her kidney removed. According to her medical records, she suffered from PKD, polycystic kidney disease. That's genetic. Our third victim had her liver removed, and she suffered from Alpha-1 Antitrypsin Deficiency…"

"I see the pattern," Catherine agreed. "The other two vics?"

"Hemochromatosis, another inherited liver disease, and valvular stenosis, an inherited heart condition," Greg replied, fishing through files.

"I'm thinking someone in his class wanted some extra credit," Nick concluded.

"Or the good doctor did it himself," a voice spoke up from the doorway. The four seated CSIs looked in that direction and found Sofia leaning against the doorjam. "Guess who treated three of our five victims, and consulted on the other two?"

"Doctor James Mendelsen," Nick replied smiling. "I think we have a suspect."

"But one thing just doesn't add up," Greg cut in, sorry to have to burst their happy little bubble.

"The sickle cell angle?" Warrick asked. When Greg nodded, Warrick continued, "I know, I know. Doc Mendelsen can't be the only suspect. He's not an African American woman with sickle cell disease. That has to come into play somewhere."

"Like I said," Nick reiterated, "Extra credit."

"What's say we give Grissom and Brass a call and pay a visit to the doctor as he's teaching his class on Congenital Diseases and Disorders?" Catherine suggested sweetly.

Thanks to the good work of his CSIs, Grissom was now sitting across from Doctor John Mendelsen, chief suspect in their grave robbing case. Brass sat next to him, staring intently at the doctor who was looking everywhere but at the police detective. Grissom knew that in the adjoining room, Catherine and Detective Vartann were interviewing their other chief suspect, a twenty three year old woman named Anita Hanson. An African American woman in Mendelsen's CDD class. The only African American woman in that class.

"So, you wanna tell us why you're Dodge Ram was at the scene of all five of our bodies?" Brass asked pleasantly, folding his hands over each other on the interrogation table.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Doctor Mendelsen stated. "What bodies?"

"The ones you and your student Anita Hanson dug up and stole internal organs from," Brass replied calmly.

"I still don't know what you're talking about," the doctor replied, just as calmly as the detective. "Ms. Hanson is a student in my class, a rather good student, I might add. There is no way she would be involved in grave robbing and stealing organs. Nor would I, for that matter."

Before the interrogation could continue, a policeman entered the room and motioned for Brass and Grissom to come with him. Sighing, the two men followed the cop out into the observation room, where Catherine and Vartann were waiting.

"What's going on, Catherine!" Grissom demanded angrily. "You're taking away our chance to…"

"It's over, Grissom," Catherine interrupted, not at all bothered by his anger. "The girl copped to it. She and the doc did it together. She was sleeping with him for a better grade and he used that to coerce her into helping him dig up these bodies and steal their organs so he could use the DNA in his research to further his grant money."

"You got that out of her that quickly?" Brass asked, suspiciously.

Catherine shrugged self-deprecatingly. "All I said to her was 'We know' and she burst out into tears and told us the whole sordid story."

"That must be the fastest confession we've ever gotten," Brass said smiling. "If you can do that with a female suspect, I gotta see what you can do to a male suspect."

Catherine just smiled. "Easy come, easy go."

"So she just opened up and confessed to the whole thing right there?" Sara asked Greg as they made their way to the break room to receive their assignments that night. Greg had called Sara after pulling a double earlier that day and helping to solve the grave robbing case, begging off getting together so he could get some much needed sleep. Sara had been understanding and said they'd meet up at work that night where she wanted to hear all the details of the case. Which he had now provided, complete with sound effects.

Greg couldn't stop smiling. He was so glad to have Sara back at work. He couldn't wait for their next assignment, hoping they'd be paired together. Over the past week, though he had liked working with the others, especially having Nick, Warrick, and Catherine back, he had deeply missed his best friend and mentor. He was never more excited and happy at work as when he walked into the locker room and saw her putting her belongings in her locker. He'd run over to her then and given her a huge hug, actually lifting her bodily off the floor. She'd smacked his arm and ordered him to put her down, which he had done, but had still kept a hold of her hand, even as they had walked down the hall to the break room, giving her all the gory details on the case she'd missed. And though he'd seen her nearly every day while she'd been suspended, nothing compared to working with her where she was at her best and in her element. And, if he was honest with himself, the enjoyed the looks the other guys around the lab gave him when they saw how much time he got to spend with Sara, how close he got to be to her. Jealous, the other lab rats and CSIs were jealous of him because he was spending all his time with a beautiful, sexy woman.

As they entered the break room they noticed that Grissom and Sofia were already there, involved in what looked to be an important discussion. "What's going on?" Greg asked.

"We have a missing person," Grissom replied without preamble.

tbc.


End file.
